


Protégé

by teasoni



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cunnilingus, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Explicit Sexual Content, Multi, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teasoni/pseuds/teasoni
Summary: Inzilbêth has little experience in lying with women and none at all in lying with men. With Arkhûl's help, Ványa aims to teach her.or:a smutty something for another fic i'm working on





	Protégé

**Author's Note:**

> this is a smutty and mostly non-canonical side story for a larger fic i'm working on. set loosely on the premise of tolkien's 'the new shadow', set approx 100-200 years after the fall of sauron. the backstory isn't really necessary to read this fic, but a few things:
> 
> \- inzilbeth is the youngest daughter of eldarion (king of gondor and aragorn and arwen's son)  
> \- they are currently in the northern wastes  
> \- vanya is one of the last remaining elves in middle-earth who has not responded to the summons of valinor  
> \- she is also blind  
> \- arkhul is a clansman of the northern wastes  
> \- the three of them traveled together from the gladden fields (or thereabouts) all the way to the wastes and are thus very familiar with each other  
> \- 'leyme' is vanya's nickname, short for 'leymisse' (lit. 'the remainer')
> 
> i will most likely make a series/compendium of misc fics concerning this, but for now it's undecided. published here mostly for archiving and organisational purposes.

The room was hardly cold and yet Inzilbêth could not help but shiver; Ványa’s body was so close, warm and smooth as a river stone, and she huddled closer to her, pressing her open mouth to that long, slender throat. Ványa sighed and cradled Inzilbêth’s head with one of her long-fingered hands. For a moment the world vanished – as it always did when Inzilbêth kissed her – and all that existed was the press of Ványa’s skin against her and the faint smell of the ocean.

“Are you afraid?” Ványa asked gently, drawing Inzilbêth back and holding her face in her hands. Even now, after all these months of travelling together, Inzilbêth was still unused to the way Ványa’s eyes sat always a little off-centre. “We don’t –,”

“No!” Inzilbêth interrupted. Her response was so abrupt that it left Ványa sitting open-mouthed for the briefest of seconds, before she pressed her lips into a smile. It was a small smile. A secret one, just for Inzilbêth. “I am all right. Merely nervous.” Gentle fingers fringed her hairline and Ványa leaned in to kiss her soundly upon the mouth. Inzilbêth leaned into it, slipping astride Ványa’s thigh in return, and letting herself fall into the firmness of the she-elf’s grip.

“Well, now.” A voice rumbled from the doorway; Ványa glanced up over Inzilbêth’s shoulder and caught her lip between her teeth, and Inzilbêth twisted upon the bed to look upon the man who stood thus upon their threshold. Arkhûl stood broad and proud, naked to the waist, his nervousness belied only by the shirt twisted about his knuckles. He was fresh from the bath; his hair and beard were still damp. Inzilbêth, at least, was glad he had decided to wash at all. “It that ain’t a sight for sore eyes.”

Usually Inzilbêth would turn from such a comment. Usually. But nothing about this was usual, and so instead of reprimanding him she chose instead to merely stare, leaning her head upon Ványa’s shoulder as those same long fingers stroked along her neck.

“Won’t you join us?” Ványa asked in that lovely voice of hers, as deep and melodious as running water. “This bed is large and the night is cold.”

Arkhûl did not need convincing. He crossed the room with merely a few strides, his powerful legs straining at the leather of his pants as he admitted himself to them. This, he knew, was _their_ bed: it was the sacred space of the two women, a place that belonged solely to them. And they, by the grace of the Valar, had allowed him admittance to it.

It would be a lie to say that Arkhûl had not been eyeing the two of them for quite some time. He had known them for months, now, and respected them both as warriors and as women in their own right. There was Ványa, who had enchanted all of his senses the moment he had laid eyes upon her, and had scared him just as much; only later did his heart softened against her quicksilver smile and her blind, wandering gaze. And then there was Inzilbêth, a walking testimony to the greatness of Man and Eldalië alike, a sprout from the house of Gondor that had grown into a wild bramble. She was bright as a flame, wild and passionate and free, and to hear her speak was like stoking the beginnings of a wildfire in his gut. He loved them, somehow. Both of them. But until now he had turned his heart from all thought of such things, for he knew that their love was for each other, and that it ran as deep within them as their blood.

“Bêth is nervous,” Ványa said softly, brushing aside Inzilbêth’s hair and kissing her neck. “She has never before laid with a man.”

Arkhûl chuckled. “I find that hard to believe. I’d wager she had the lads falling at her feet back in Gondor.”

Then Inzilbêth said very quietly, “I have laid with nobody before.”

“Not even the she-elf?”

Ványa frowned. “I’m right here, you know.”

But Arkhûl only laughed, and taking Inzilbêth’s face in his hands he kissed her just as Ványa had done. Fear clutched at her heart. Her eyes searched wildly for Ványa as Arkhûl kissed her, expecting to find jealousy or betrayal or injure; but instead she found Ványa’s face open and intrigued, and her hand still played at Inzilbêth’s curls, and Inzilbêth’s nerves were eased but a little.

Arkhûl did not kiss her like Ványa did. Where Ványa’s kisses were firm and knowing, able to melt Inzilbêth at the knees with the briefest of touches, Arkhûl’s overpowered her, his tongue pressing into her mouth and making her sigh. It was different, but it was certainly not unpleasant.

Inzilbêth’s fingers caught against the beads in his braids, and she tugged upon them, drawing forth a growl from deep within Arkhûl’s chest. Ványa laughed softly, moving to kiss Inzilbêth’s neck with slow, purposeful caresses. As both their hands moved to her chest and belly she could not help the tears that sprung to her eyes – she loved them both, and the sensations they were building up along her spine were almost too much to bear.

“Do not cry, little lamb,” Arkhûl rumbled in her ear, his immense arms gathering her against his body as though she was but a bundle of twigs. And Ványa, humming softly a tune Inzilbêth vaguely recognised, held her too from behind. Inzilbêth clung to him, to the bear-like bulk of his body, to his skin that blazed hot like forge-warmed iron. She found comfort in the smell of him, which had become so familiar to her on the road.

Ványa said something to Arkhûl in her lilting mother-tongue, and Arkhûl nodded, drawing apart from Inzilbêth and pressing her down upon the bed with a single hand to her breastbone. It was so easy for her to follow his lead. _Their_ lead – for while Arkhûl possessed power and bulk of form, it was Ványa who guided him, who put his rough hand on Inzilbêth’s belly and who leaned over her to kiss him upon the corner of his mouth. Arkhûl went absolutely still when Ványa kissed him, and when they parted he gazed at her in wonder.

Ványa’s thighs were warm about Inzilbêth’s head. She lay half in the elf’s lap, comforted by her closeness, as Arkhûl lowered himself between her own legs and lifted her knees over his shoulders. The movement was practiced, one he had surely done many times before; and yet still he looked nervous, his dark eyes flickering between Ványa and Inzilbêth, as if he expected them to leap up and flee at any second. But Inzilbêth, soothed by Arkhûl’s own anxieties, reached down to him and smoothed a hand against his hair and cheek. She passed her thumb over his lips and felt him sigh against it, and when she smiled he smiled also. One of his hands moved from her thigh to her belly, and there he held hers, fingers clutching tight at her own.

The first drag of his tongue made Inzilbêth yelp; Ványa held her still and laughed her silvery laugh, leaning down to kiss her, and only a few charged moments later was Inzilbêth gasping and twisting in her lap. Her thighs quivered about Arkhûl’s ears, and when she glanced down at him from bleary eyes she saw that his eyes had dropped closed, and that he pressed himself into her with as much fervour as he could muster.

“Oh – !” Inzilbêth choked on her own voice when Arkhûl pressed a single finger inside her; certainly, she and Ványa had done such things in whatever spare moments they could catch, but Arkhûl was as different to the elf as was iron to silver. Where Ványa was smooth he was rough, and where she was fluid he was jarring. But he brought her no pain, and he moved slowly, guided by Inzilbêth’s rolling body and Ványa’s soft, musical voice.

“Does his tongue feel good, my love?” Ványa asked her, tracing the tips of her fingers lovingly over Inzilbêth’s lips. Inzilbêth parted them and touched her tongue to Ványa’s fingers, and Ványa, smiling, pressed them forth into her mouth. Inzilbêth moaned around them as Arkhûl added a second finger to the first.

“Yes,” Inzilbêth finally responded, her voice slurred around the fingers in her mouth; Arkhûl’s beard rasped against skin and swollen flesh and the press of the beads brought shocks of coldness to the ever-mounting warmth. “He is so –,”

And then Arkhûl moved his fingers a certain way and Inzilbêth’s spine blazed hot with sensation, her lower body pounding with a new, foreign pressure. So shocked was she at the feeling that she arched up out of Ványa’s lap and stared with wide eyes upon Arkhûl, who returned her gaze with mischief glinting in his face.

“Do that again,” Inzilbêth demanded – it sounded more like a plea. But Arkhûl merely smirked and let his eyes close once more, and he drew his hand from Inzilbêth’s to press against her, right between the jut of her hipbones. He pressed, and moved his fingers inside her, and Inzilbêth threw back her head and keened. _Loudly._

“Perhaps you do not need me after all,” Ványa said, though her words belied no hurt. While the miracle of Arkhûl’s tongue had distracted her for a moment, Inzilbêth reached for Ványa and the two took each other into their arms; and Ványa kissed her deeply, her tongue eliciting almost as much pleasure as Arkhûl’s.

“Merciful Valar,” Arkhûl growled, drawing back from between Inzilbêth’s legs to drink in the vision of the two women before him. Inzilbêth, so enraptured was she in Ványa’s caresses, barely noticed.

Arkhûl wrestled his breeches from his legs and kicked them away. Glancing distractedly between his legs Inzilbêth’s stomach clenched, though whether from fear or excitement she could not tell. He appeared just as she’d expected him to – just as she and Ványa had discussed in whispers and giggles when Arkhûl could not hear. He stroked himself once, twice, and met Inzilbêth’s eyes with a smirk.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Bêth,” he said. He was teasing her.

“Hardly,” she replied; she tried to sound scathing, but her words came out a slurry, and Arkhûl only laughed.

“I would have your mouth on me,” he continued, easing himself further onto the bed until his legs pressed to theirs. “But I would be lying if I said I did not want to feel the quicksilver mouth of an elf on my cock, and I would too be lying if I said I could last through you both.”

Ványa smiled against Inzilbêth’s cheek before turning to Arkhûl. “And what if you had both of us at once?”

Arkhûl paused. His cock jumped within his grip.

At the bidding of Ványa’s touch Inzilbêth rose to sit, and together they bracketed the northman, breath blowing warm against his hips. One of his hands remained anchored at the root of his cock, as if he was afraid to loose himself lest he spend across their faces right away.

“Shall I teach you, my love?” Ványa asked Inzilbêth, gazing at her with those strange eyes, her lips flushed as pink as a rose. Inzilbêth, enraptured with her beauty and with her own immense love, nodded. Ványa whispered elvish words to her as she kissed her once, firmly. “Then let us begin.”

It did not feel like a lesson, not really. Ványa guided her with a gentle hand upon her chin, and together they took Arkhûl between their flushed lips, kissing one another around his girth, taking him into their mouths one at a time. Soon Inzilbêth grew a little more confident, and it was then that the smiles began to show themselves, and soon she and Ványa were looking upon each other like smitten lovers (which, Inzilbêth admitted, they _were_ ) and laughing whenever Arkhûl shuddered or let out a hoarse, croaking moan. He held both their heads against him, his thick fingers curled in their hair, but they did not mind. Whatever he did, they did not mind, just as _he_ did not mind the way they mused like maidens around his cock.

The sight of his cock upon Ványa’s lips was what brought Arkhûl to completion. Ever since he was a boy he had found the elves otherworldly in their beauty and allure, though he had never met one in the flesh, and upon finally meeting Ványa he was not disappointed. She glowed as would a pearl beneath starlight, and her voice was of silver, her laugh the chiming of bells. Even caked with mud and viscera she appeared more beautiful than the most lordly of Men, even despite the weariness that was forever in her face.

He spent himself across her lips; she took him into her mouth and swallowed some of it, her eyes laughing as she gazed up at him, half-lidded with her own pleasure. Inzilbêth’s hand had reached between her legs, finding her wet and wanting there, and when Arkhûl finally drew back from them she kissed his spend from Ványa’s lips. It was enough to make desire stir once more in his belly.

“You’ve not yet wedged your knives in me,” he said, breathless. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if you kill me before the night is through.”

This time it was Inzilbêth who smiled, licking at her lips. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, Khûl.”

And Arkhûl thundered with laughter, the others laughing with him, and he launched himself upon them as would a wolf-hound upon his masters. They lay together in a mess of sweat and warm limbs; being so close to them, smelling the fragrance of their skin and feeling the softness of their hair… it was enough for Arkhûl to rise above them and kiss them both with longing.

“How would you have me?” he asked, and the women shared a look before Inzilbêth rose to her knees, and with a hand upon his chest she pressed him down upon his back.

“I shall ride you here,” she said, reaching down to give him a firm stroke. “And Ványa shall ride you _here_.” Her other hand she moved to his lips, touching her fingers to them, and Arkhûl grinned.

“And then, perhaps, if you are well behaved, we shall switch places.” Ványa sat on her knees beside Arkhûl, and leaned down to kiss him. He groaned at the feather-light touch of Ványa’s lips and the stroke of Inzilbêth’s hand around him.

“Aye,” he rasped. “If the two of you don’t kill me first.”

Inzilbêth laughed and slung her leg across his hips, sitting astride him so his slick, flushed cock pressed against the thatch of curls between her legs. It was slippery, so slippery, and she was so swollen and hot there, each touch made her shudder. Her body ached with the need to be spread open upon it. Dragging her eyes away from Arkhûl’s cock, Inzilbêth watched as Ványa mounted his face, her lily-white thighs spread on either side of his head. She gazed down at him and tilted his chin up with her hand, threading her fingers into his beard and tugging on it.

“Do not use your teeth, northman,” she warned him. Somehow the gentleness of her tone made it even more frightening. For once Arkhûl did not argue and did not tease. He merely nodded, out of breath already, and dragged Ványa’s hips down to meet his face.

Ványa shivered. Her lips parted, teeth glimmering as she smiled at nothing, her breath leaving her in one fell rush. She twisted, but Arkhûl held her still with his arms wrapped around her thighs, anchoring her to him; she did not seem to struggle very fiercely, but Inzilbêth supposed it had been a long while since she’d had an experienced tongue between her legs. Inzilbêth had had her own taste, of course, but she had known nothing of that art, and it had been gentle and slow. Nothing like this – nothing like Arkhûl’s furious lapping.

“You are like a parched dog,” Ványa reprimanded him. It fell flat, however, when her voice broke and she moaned, rocking against his mouth. Inzilbêth grew even wetter when she saw the slip of his tongue between Ványa’s folds.

Seeing the elf in such a rapture of pleasure made Inzilbêth’s entire body tingle. She lifted herself, mounting Arkhûl’s cock before sinking slowly down upon it. She only afterwards became aware that Ványa was watching her, leaning against Arkhûl’s broad chest as she rode him, her breath coming harsh and fast. She reached out for Inzilbêth blindly, and Inzilbêth took her hands, holding them tight. She drew Ványa in and kissed her.

“Does it hurt?” Ványa whispered against her lips. “I do not want you to be hurt, my love.”

“It doesn’t.” Inzilbêth nuzzled at her throat and behind her ear, breathing in the smell of the deep ocean. Ványa was kissing her ceaselessly, all composure lost and all propriety forsaken. Beneath them Arkhûl was almost forgotten; that was until he canted his hips up and slid the rest of the way inside Inzilbêth, who started rather violently, her teeth catching Ványa’s lip.

Ványa’s hand slid from her breast down to her abdomen. Her long fingers felt about for a little while before pressing directly over where Arkhûl’s cock sat within her. The pressure made Inzilbêth’s eyes roll wildly. “Leymë – !”

Delight coloured Ványa’s features; she dug forth her thumb and urged Arkhûl to move. He did so gladly. His powerful hips rocked into Inzilbêth again and again, and between the thick spread of his cock and Ványa’s clever hands Inzilbêth was brought to her peak time and time again. Ványa dragged herself from Arkhûl’s face before she could reach her own climax, and with a ferocity rarely seen outside battle, she demanded: “Fuck her! I want to hear her undone.”

What else could he do other than comply? Ványa was no so easily disobeyed, and her eyes shone with both immense pleasure and a still-insatiable desire to see her love taken apart. She slipped her own hand between her legs and did not suffer Arkhûl a single touch while he watched; Arkhûl lifted himself over Inzilbêth, who fell as pliant as a doll against the sheets, and reared above her like a great beast in the throes of rage. But it was not rage, no – Arkhûl’s body was flushed instead with desire, and his hands spread Inzilbêth’s thighs apart, giving him further purchase with which to ravage her body. Ványa put her face close to their joining, kissing at Inzilbêth’s damp curls and lathing her tongue across the swollen, dripping flesh; Inzilbêth’s hands knotted tightly in her hair and held her in a crushing grip.

Inzilbêth held her thus when she reached her final peak, and it bore down upon her like the most violent of storms; each muscle drew tense and quivered, her body thrumming as would a plucked string. Just when she thought she could bear Arkhûl’s plundering no longer he pulled from her, and when Inzilbêth’s hazed vision finally cleared she found Ványa mounting him in like; her body, too, was flushed pink, though pressed against Arkhûl’s rugged form, their difference was quite stark.

“Oh,” she sobbed as she sank down upon him; his fingers were white with how hard he gripped her thighs. “Oh – it has been so long since I have felt such fullness – !”

Inzilbêth watched, enraptured, as Ványa rode Arkhûl with desperate fervour, chasing the release that danced just out of her reach. Her body rolled and shimmered like upset water, glistening with sweat that dewed upon her skin. She sparkled like that, in the low light of the lamps, and Inzilbêth dragged herself to them as if in a trance, and dragged her tongue up the line of Ványa’s spine, right to the nape of her neck.

“ _You are so beautiful, Leymë_ ,” she whispered. Usually Ványa would smile, or perhaps sigh, or kiss her – but not this time. Because Inzilbêth had said the words in the language of the Ványar, and Ványa shuddered violently, her hands clutching at Inzilbêth as she hit her climax with the force of a forge-hammer.

Ványa’s clutching body wrung the spend from Arkhûl. He tossed his head back and released himself with a roar, grinding his hips up between Ványa’s legs. Even now her skin was mottled with the press of his fingers, petals of pink and red blooming across her body. Inzilbêth could not tear her eyes away.

Gently, Inzilbêth lay Ványa out upon the bed and spread her legs apart. Arkhûl did not move; he was breathing hard, catching his own breath, his cock softening against his thigh. But Inzilbêth was not concerned with him.

Ványa hummed when Inzilbêth began to lap between her legs. She was sensitive there, but Inzilbêth’s soft and gentle tongue was not unwelcomed, and she worked just as softly, coercing Arkhûl’s spend from within Ványa’s body. It was a pleasing thing, really – a nice finishing touch.

“I hope you do not beget my child,” Arkhûl muttered as he eyed Inzilbêth working between the elf’s legs.

“I shan’t,” Ványa replied just as dozily. “I am far beyond bearing children by now.” She combed her fingers through Inzilbêth’s hair. “Come up here, beloved.”

Inzilbêth dragged herself up to lay between them. Arkhûl’s body was warm and solid at her back, his breath a comfort in its ebb and flow. In but a few minutes he began to snore fitfully, and the women exchanged a small smile.

But it was Ványa that she turned towards, and together they lay embraced, Inzilbêth’s fingers working the hair back from Ványa’s fair face. Ványa kissed the sweat from her lover’s body and they lay until they cooled and grew sleepy.

“You surprised me with those words,” Ványa murmured. “Where did you learn them?”

“From Arkhûl,” Inzilbêth admitted, a little abashed. She had not expected to use those words here, especially not doing something like _this_ , and yet she had. It had felt right. Even now, she did not regret it. “I had planned it to be more… romantic.”

Ványa laughed. “Oh, Bêth, but it was. I have not felt such joy for many, many years.” Her smile was inexhaustible, and made her face light up like the dawn, gracing her with a beauty Inzilbêth had never before seen. “You spoke them so beautifully. O, Varda, if I haven’t found the keeper of my own heart.”

And thus they three lay together and washed away into slumber, spent and gratified, and though the thunderous cloud grew ever darker over Utumno, for that night they felt no evil.


End file.
